


Angels Never Cry

by grandlovers



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels, Angel Wings, Biblical Themes (Abrahamic Religions), Eva and Sparda are both heavenly deities, Fallen Angels, Gen, Heavy Angst, Into The Spardaverse Week, Mundus is "God", Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29319117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandlovers/pseuds/grandlovers
Summary: An angelic retelling of Vergil's fall from grace.
Relationships: Dante & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Eva/Sparda (Devil May Cry)
Kudos: 7





	Angels Never Cry

**Author's Note:**

> this is an AU that's been stewin' for a while, but held it off just for spardaverse!! hope you guys enjoy~

_It has been said that an Angel weeping was the pinnacle of sorrow. Despite their empathetic and charitable nature, Angels were never seen shedding tears for their brethren or for humanity. Regardless of the fallen, regardless of the horrors crawling upon the Earth, an Angel’s cheeks stayed dry._

_The first sighting of this myth supposedly took place during the Great Tragedy— when Mundus, a worshipped deity, was seized from his throne atop the Heavens by his trusted overseer and second-in-command, Sparda. The legendary Holy Knight had learned of the deity’s plans to deceive humanity and force them into his slaves. His thirst for wordly control clouded his judgement, and Sparda took it upon himself to tilt the scales. The dreadful deity had his ivory wings ripped from him and without his grace, Mundus fell down from Heaven into the dark abysses. But, not before ripping into Sparda’s wife Eva as revenge, and taking her corpse down with him._

_Sparda’s soldiers had stared with astonishment as pearlescent tears dripped down the Knight’s face. The utter despair of his loss left Sparda wracked with sobs, and not a single Angel knew how to comfort him. Among the crowd were Sparda’s twin sons, too young to fully grasp the demise of their mother and unable to understand the emotions pouring out from their father. In an outburst, Sparda forged two mighty weapons from his very soul and used them to close off the gates to Hell, and seal the borders of Heaven. He would not allow another tragedy to befall his loved ones._

_It was barely half of an Earth’s rotation later, when the weakened legendary Knight passed in a shimmer of light, his corporeal form lost to the atmosphere forever._

_Life in Heaven had resumed and not another tear was shed, not even for the legendary Holy Knight._

**

In Sparda’s stead, his regiment of Archangels cared for the orphaned twins. The chubby, pink babes were full of life, their abundant energy bringing joy to the inhabitants of the palace. Sweet little Dante and Vergil were rays of sunshine and beacons of hope. 

The twins could do no wrong in the eyes of the palace and the hierarchy of Angels. Any mischievous antics were met with giggles, and the twins received enough coos and cuddles to last a human’s lifespan 100 times over. 

When wings had begun to sprout from the babes’ backs, a sure sign of maturity, the palace called for all to come see. White came first, the wrist of the wing bony and untainted. Soon, color dyed the developing wings. Their father was renowned for his violet tinged wings, while their mother had the purest of snow for wings, hers shimmering and sparkling in the golden light of Heaven— fitting for a holy goddess of light. 

The twins had a perfect mix of their parents, and it was as if their father had split his color to form the brothers’ contrasting hues. Cobalt streaked Vergil’s wings, whereas Dante had crimson running down his feathers. 

A Seraphim held the boys up, and hailed them to the population from the balcony of the palace. The deafening cheers lit up smiles on the babes’ cheeks. 

**

Being a prince to the holy throne wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Dante enjoyed the ever-flowing fountains of wine and the endless buffets, but the expectations placed on him irritated him to no end. Annoyed him enough to skip his lessons with the Cherubim, and his meetings with the court of the Dominions. 

Vergil, the level-headed and more responsible twin, made up for all of Dante’s shortcomings. He sparred until his hands bled gold, he controlled the courts with a cutthroat attitude, and studied the infinite knowledge held within Heaven’s libraries. It seemed there was nothing Vergil wasn’t good at, and nothing he did not know. He was sung praises every morning and every evening, to the behest of his brother. 

It was common knowledge that Vergil would take up the throne and be the God Mundus couldn’t, and eventually, surpass his father as the greatest warrior to ever exist in Heaven. 

But humility was not a virtue Vergil practiced. The gifts and praises were fueling the prince’s narcissism in ways that Heaven could not have foretold. 

**

Vergil was no longer the same. In one day, a switch had flipped inside of him and Dante could barely recognize his twin. There was nary a smile on Vergil’s face, and the praises sung to him earned no gratitude. His swordplay was vicious and aggressive, his heirloom sword aimed to kill. Angels were afraid of calling him out lest they face his wrath. Not even the mighty Seraphim challenged him. He was above them, and he stood at the top, just like he always wanted. 

Yet, it seemed it was not enough. 

Vergil had been making offhand comments about revenge, about taking back everything they lost. Dante didn’t take him seriously, and contributed his words to his brother’s arrogance. Angels never wanted revenge, they never went on suicide missions. They lived for peace, and only harmed when needed. Even Sparda did not Kill Mundus, but instead banished him. 

By the time Dante realized the gravity behind his brother’s words, it was too late. 

The glittering gates of Heaven were wide open to showcase Vergil in all of his glory standing on the edge of the dimension, wings splayed for take-off. 

“Vergil! Stop!” Dante yelled. “What are you doing!?”

He didn’t turn back. “I have to do this. I met everyone else’s expectations, but I have not met my own. I will not allow that _murderer_ to live, even in his domain.”

Dante used his wings to power him forward, hoping to catch his brother in time, but Archangels tackled him and chained him. He screamed and thrashed to no avail. His brother was gone, and he was all alone. 

**

Vergil lost. That, Dante knew for sure. 

The dimension cutting abilities of the Yamato had likely been used to create a portal to Hell, the very border it sealed long ago, and since the surge of demons on Earth, Dante surmised that Vergil could not hold them back. 

Earth was Hell, literally. Souls of the dead could not be counted, and lower-ranked Angels struggled with the flow. The planet was being torn apart and there was quite nothing they could do about it. The legendary Holy Knight had long evaporated, the prized prince had fallen, and their last beacon of hope could not stack up to the disasters. 

Dante was then given a scroll by the Seraphim detailing a trip to Earth to seal the portals connecting it to Hell. The Rebellion he held had no usage, but they prayed that the Yamato could be found. Dante noted they didn’t care about the possible corpse of his brother, only the sword he had carried. 

At the next dusk on Earth, Dante set out with the Archangels to the Hell Gate in the middle of a city. This particular gate was thought to be the main thread connecting the two dimensions. The Angels circled the structure, searching high and low for the presence of the Yamato. 

There was no way the Yamato was sitting out for them to find. Dante stepped away from his brethren, and without looking back, entered the Hell Gate. 

**

Maybe he desperately wanted the Yamato. Maybe he desperately wanted to see his brother again. Maybe both. 

Dante flew past brackish rivers and creatures too busy devouring one another to notice him. No sign of either his brother or the Yamato. He landed near a pond, one aptly filled with blood, and that’s when he saw it. 

A frayed, cobalt feather. 

Dante hurriedly followed the trail, the feathers varying in shades of navy and black. Black. Dante’s heart picked up speed as he ran. Closer and closer, he sensed his brother. 

Dante dropped to the ground in disbelief. 

Vergil was on his knees, his arms and wings held up by spikes and chains. His gorgeous wings were tarnished in the hues of corruption, the wings themselves broken in multiple places. They bent in angles almost incomprehensible, and the feathers clinging to the bone symbolized the last defense to his brother’s angelic pride. 

“Vergil,” he whispered. 

His brother looked up, his alabaster skin as tainted as his wings. “Dante?”

“What happened to you?” Dante crawled closer, but did not dare touch him for fear of hurting him further. 

“Please, Dante, leave,” Vergil choked out, his voice painfully hoarse, “Leave now. Don’t let him find you. He already knows you’re here.”

“I can’t leave you! I’m taking you back with me!”

Vergil’s sickly irises watered. “It’s impossible. Because I’m his captive you can safely leave. He can’t have both of us. Leave.”

Dante shook his head and leaned into his twin. He flinched when Vergil groaned in pain. He tenderly wrapped his arms around Vergil’s battered body. 

“The Yamato is shattered. It is useless.”

Dante’s throat constricted. 

“Please, I’m begging you Dante, leave while you can.” His body trembled with deep coughs and discolored blood splattered onto Dante. “The Gate is closing. Please. . .”

“I can’t leave you behind, Vergil, you’re all I have left!”

Vergil froze, and briefly Dante believed he was passing on. 

“There is nothing left.” 

Dante squeezed his brother’s torso. 

“Dante, before you go. . I’m sorry. I have something to ask of you.”

He didn’t move. 

“Live for the both of us, Dante.” Vergil then murmured into Dante’s ear, the words shocking him. Dante stood up angrily.

“I can’t. Vergil, I can’t do this.”

“It is my final request. Please, I beg of you.”

Dante gripped the hilt of his Rebellion tighter and tighter. The dimension around them lit up with tears in the sky. More exit portals were opening. Mundus was winning. 

“Please, Dante.”

_Please._

**_Please._ **

Dante raised his sword and closed his eyes. 

**

The Angels had vanished. Traces of their holiness were wiped clean by the vast army of Demons under Mundus’ control. 

Left behind were crumbles of society. Human corpses littered every corner of Earth. 

A man stood amidst the remains of a street with a cobalt feather clutched to his chest and pearlescent tears dripping down his face. 

This time, no one was around to witness it. His tears fell down onto the splitting Earth beneath him, and his anguished cries became the song of the apocalypse.


End file.
